Well, earlier today, and last week, Sookie went into her room, just to sit. It helped, it helps. "I don't know why, but just being someplace where she's been, it makes me feel better. At least a little bit." Jessica smiles, and leaps further. "You think maybe you could drive me to my parents' so that I could..." Sookie recoils, because shit.
"No, please! I would just sit in the car, I swear. All I'm asking is to sit across the street, and catch a glimpse of them through the window. Just so I can say goodbye." Sookie apologizes carefully, suddenly aware of the strength of her, and tries to point her in any other direction: "I'm sorry, it's just not my place. But if you explained it to Bill the same way you just explained it to me, I'm sure he'd take you..." Honesty: "Are you really sure about that? Because I'm not so sure he would." She's right, and they both know it.
And Sookie looks at this poor girl with blood smudged on her face, and remembers the ache of Adele, and the promise she made earlier, to provide the home for this girl that no other person on earth is capable or interested in giving her. To reach across the line and affirm the family of orphans. And, of course, to leverage this dangerous new element; to be a friend to Jessica in a way Bill can't, and nip in the bud the idea of Jessica and Bill somehow teaming up on her. Bill's the vampire father; she must be the human mother. She can teach this girl how to live in both worlds, the way Sookie must, and if she does it right Jessica will love her forever. They'll be on equal footing, the three of them. And she'll be safe, and she-and-Bill will be safe, and their family will work. This is the chance. "Okay."
Jessica does a little dance. "But we're just driving by and that's it. And we should swing by my place first and get you a change of clothes, because I am not taking you out in public dressed like that." She stands gawkily, looking at Sookie like she's an adult, which she barely is, but suddenly seeing her as so much older. Learning to love her. "Well, thank you, Sookie," she says, awkwardly adult and gracious, trying to be good. "Thank you so, so, much." Sookie tells her not to mention it, and then turns hilariously at the door: "To Bill. Ever." Jessica nods, sweet and conspiring. Somewhere between best babysitter and best big sister; sometimes that's all a stepmother can ask for. It won't last.